


Unhappily Ever After

by YumYumPM



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E.
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-28
Updated: 2014-09-28
Packaged: 2018-02-19 01:35:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2369591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YumYumPM/pseuds/YumYumPM
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ever wonder why Napoleon left U.N.C.L.E.?  How the men from U.N.C.L.E. manage to catch Zepherin?  One possibility of many.  Written sometime in 2004, well before the DVD's came out. </p><p>formerly titled The Truth About What's U.N.C.L.E. Got To Do With It<br/>revised</p><p>After Kingston's defeat, Napoleon and Illya go on assignment together not knowing that it would be their last as a team.  Bridges the gap between the series end and the Return movie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unhappily Ever After

**Act 1: You want us to what?**

Alexander Waverly stood in front of the picture window in his office, the only one in the building, looking out at the view of the United Nations it presented. This last affair had shaken him more then he would have liked to admit. Thanks to Kingsley, one of their own, THRUSH had almost pulled off taking over the world. Shaking his head he thought about the other matter that had just come up. Something drastic would have to be done. But what? Something totally farfetched, something THRUSH would never expect. Going back to his desk he went over the list of candidates for the job, Of course, his two top agents were at the top of the list, but could they pull it off.

Then his mind went back to two previous affairs. That one - what had they called it? 'The Hula Doll Affair', stupid name that, but he distinctly remembered hearing Kuryakin tell Solo to get his jollies elsewhere and had looked up in time to catch Solo glancing down to Kuryakin's lap. And when he was going out the door with Miss Okasata after 'The Cherry Blossom Affair', he was sure he had heard Kuryakin saying that he'd like to hear Solo's stories … anytime. He hadn't thought much of it at the time, but he now that he had, he was sure they could pull it off. His decision made, he flicked the switch. "Miss … um … please have Misters Solo and Kuryakin report to my office right away."

"Yes, sir."

He reached for his pipe and leaned back in his chair. This might turn out all right after all.

Illya Kuryakin came out of his office, his glasses on, reading an open folder that he held in his hand. He spotted his partner walking up the hall ahead of him and hurried to catch up with him. Napoleon, his head down and shoulders slumped, heard the sound of footsteps behind him and paused to see who it was. With his hands in his pocket he remarked rather dully, "I see you got a call to see Waverly, too?"

As they continued down the hall Kuryakin looked at his partner quizzically. "Are you all right?"

"I guess I'm just … tired."

They had reached Waverly's office and paused at the door. Napoleon to adjust his tie and pat his hair in place, Illya to put away his glasses. Upon entering they saw Mr. Waverly send the table turning to bring two folders to their usual seats. Without a word, they sat down and started perusing the folders. Solo sighed. "We have a mole." It wasn't a question.

Illya looked up sharply. "Where do you see that?" he asked.

"There," Napoleon leaned over and pointed to a certain passage on Illya's sheet.

Illya reread that particular section. It always amazed him how his partner could read between the lines. "Oh … I thought we had taken care of that sort of problem after the trouble we had with Carla?" He looked up worriedly at his boss.

Mr. Waverly, slightly embarrassed, reached for his pipe. "So had I."

Silence reigned for a minute as each man considered what this would mean. Illya got up out of his chair and went over to where the coffee carafe was, pouring himself a cup.

Mr. Waverly, steeling himself, went on. "As I'm sure you know, Command's view of certain … personal … relationships have come under attack lately."  
This change of subject caught both men by surprise, along with the words personal and relationships. Napoleon turned in his chair to look at his partner and their expressions seemed to say Just where is this coming from?

Both of them looked at their chief wondering if they'd interrupted him correctly.

"Sir, we … " from Napoleon.

"Surely you don't suppose …" from Illya.

Waverly had gotten out of his chair and was lighting his pipe. "No, no, gentlemen, I've no concerns in that area." Puffing away. "But what if you were?"

The cup that Illya had just picked up went crashing to the floor as both man gaped at their superior in surprise. The door flew open and Lisa Rogers entered, gun drawn. Mr. Waverly, waved toward the mess. "Nothing serious, just a little mishap." Nothing was said as Miss Rogers cleaned up the mess and poured another cup which she handed to Illya. He took it automatically as she, wondering what had caused the cup to fall in the first place, left the room.

Moving back to the table and almost slamming the cup down Illya sputtered, "You can't be serious, surely nobody would believe that of us? Especially of Napoleon, with his reputation with the ladies."

Waverly sat back down in his chair and responded calmly, "Ah, but recently that has changed hasn't it, Mr. Solo?"

Illya turned in amazement to look at his partner. Napoleon was looking down at his hand inspecting his nails, not daring to meet either man's eyes. "That's just a temporary problem," he muttered embarrassed.

"Well no one would believe that I … " picking up his cup Illya started to take a sip.

"Mr. Kuryakin, you have been the object of office gossip for some time in that regard." Mr. Waverly stated, causing Illya to spit out the coffee he had just sipped. Napoleon had to turn away to hide the smile that came to his face, grateful that he was no longer the subject under discussion.

"Me?" Illya let out a squeak.

"Yes, you." Mr. Waverly looked amused. "I suppose it has something to do with the way you hold a cup, something you undoubtedly picked up in England while at Cambridge. There is also the matter of certain comments you've made in all probability not realizing the context they could be taken in."

Clearing his throat Napoleon asked, "Why us?"

"You two are my best men, don't let that go to your head, and I'm going to need the best if this is going to be pulled off," Waverly stated. He proceeded to outline the plan as both men started to turn green. But in the end they agreed it was the only way.

**Act 2. It's remarks like that that got us into this mess.**

Both men walked in silence to Napoleon's office. Illya, his face pale, plopped down in the chair while Napoleon sat behind his desk. After a few minutes of silence said, "Napoleon, I don't think I can do this."

Napoleon staring at nothing in particular had taken a pencil from the top of his desk and was fiddling with it. "Suck it up, Tovarish, if I have to do this you have to, too." He waved the pencil in the air. "Besides, we may not have to do anything. It could be all smoke and mirrors."

Illya sincerely hoped his partner was right and than he remembered something else Waverly had said. "What was that all about, what has recently changed?"  
Napoleon flinched and still not looking at his partner. "Nothing, it's just that since that matter with Kingsley, I haven't felt like going out … in fact I haven't felt … anything."

Illya was concerned for his friend, to confess to this was almost out of character, and hoping to lighten the mood he came to sit on the edge of Napoleon's desk. "Perhaps if I grew some … ?" gesturing with his hands in front of his chest.

That got a smirk from Napoleon. "You're not my type. By the way, that's the type of remark that got us into this mess."

Getting off the desk, Illya headed for the door. "Then perhaps it is time I make myself rare."

"Rare?" Napoleon straightened up as he watched his partner go out the door. "That's scarce, you ignorant Russian," he called to Illya's retreating form.

Two days later they were called back into Waverly's office for a new assignment. A fellow agent's dying last words had been. "Justin Sepheran." The agent had been in New Mexico attending the Grand Prix and not on assignment at all. Those last words had do be important. Research was unable to find out much about the man, except that he was rising fast in THRUSH and other than the message having originated in Mexico City that was all they had to go on. Their job would be to go there and make as much trouble as they could and find out more information on Sepheran.

Upon arriving in Mexico City and checking in, their first course of business was to retrace the agent’s last steps. This took them to the racetrack, which brought back memories of the Girls of Nazarone Affair. As they were going out the door Napoleon ventured, "You're going to stand out a mile in that maroon jacket, you know. Don't you have any decent clothes?”

Illya looked down at his jacket. "What's wrong with this jacket? It was on sale and it fits."

Napoleon, just shook his head, and led the way to their rented. Once at the track they separated and listened to the gossip that was going around. Illya was looking at a Lotus with a new Cosworth DFV V8 engine when he heard someone mention Sepheran's name. Contacting Napoleon on Channel L, he brought him up to date before following the men, hopeful that they would lead him to Sepheran. He ended up having to ‘borrow’ a jeep.

Unfortunately, Napoleon had been right about his jacket and he was soon captured. But luckily for him, Napoleon showed up before too much damage was done and the only casualty was the maroon jacket. As it was late, their only choice was to get a room in the area. They were lucky to find a hostel with two beds and a very small bathroom. At least it had running water. They had contacted Waverly earlier and he hadn't been pleased to hear that they had lost Sepheran. Illya took first turn in the shower as Napoleon plopped down on one of the beds. Napoleon opened the night table next to the bed and found some playing cards that a previous occupant had left. He also found a listening device. He debated on whether to dismantle it, but decided that this might be the perfect time to put Waverly's plan into effect. He heard Illya come out of the bathroom and as he tossed cards into a trashcan he took a deep breath and as casually as he could asked, "Illya, do you like woman?" He didn't notice the look of panic on Illya's face as he responded with an equal casualness he did not feel.

**Act 3: Kuryakin, is that Russian?**

Two days later in New York, Mr. Waverly stood at his picture window while a large folder was placed on his desk. Solo and Kuryakin's plane was due to land in an hour. Phase one of the plan had been executed and spectacularly at that. Somehow the mole had gotten information on Solo and Kuryakin's whereabouts and a bug had been planted.

A transcript had been received by Command and they had been adamant about his correcting what they perceived as a deviant problem. They had also decided to put the blame solely on poor Mr. Kuryakin, reasoning that KGB trained their agents for this sort of thing. So Illya would be given the choice of being sent back to the Soviets or having his memory modified. Waverly knew what the choice would be, because that's how he had planned it. Solo would of course have to step down as CEA and it was up to Waverly to pick out his replacement.

He went back to his desk and pulled out some folders of possible replacements. April Dancer and her partner, Mark Slate, were both good candidates. But they were too bright and the fewer people in on this the better. Hmmm, Joseph Carver, a bit older than Solo and not as affable, also not very imaginative, he would do. Now for Phase Two. Reaching over to push a switch, he ordered, "Miss Rogers, have Mr. Carver report to my office right away, please."

"Yes, sir," was her response.

That taken care of, there was nothing more to do but wait.

Solo and Kuryakin entered Mr. Waverly's office to find him staring out the window. "Don't bother to sit down, gentlemen. Just have a look at the folder on the table."  
He heard a gasp and the folder was thrown back down on the desk. That would have been Mr. Solo, since he didn't think Kuryakin would show any emotion to what he had read. He turned around to find he was right. Solo looked pale while Kuryakin looked stony. They all knew it was part of the plan, but it was still a shock. Waverly went though the motions of charging them and then giving Illya his choices. He then called two security guards in to take them away. Turning back to the window he could only think, "Damnable business."

In time everyone concerned met in one of the interrogation rooms and following the plan Waverly had outlined, Kuryakin was given an injection of the newest memory loss drug U.N.C.L.E. had available. When Napoleon had seemed to lose control and collapse Waverly had almost applauded. After having Solo removed and sending everyone out, Waverly stayed alone with Kuryakin for five minutes.

Later, as Waverly stood before the window to the room that housed a very dejected Solo, he thought that he had never realized what a good actor his top agent was. "Perhaps another injection should be prepared?" He told the young technician who had taken care of Kuryakin. A repeat of what had happened to Kuryakin was instituted, and again after everyone left the room, he also spent five minutes alone with Solo. The U.N.C.L.E. grapevine had a lot to say that day.

Kuryakin was assigned to the labs and seemed to be settling in quite nicely. Solo on the other hand was having a harder time of it. It was almost as if time had turned back to when Solo first started with U.N.C.L.E. and was unable to work well with others. After three weeks, Mr. Waverly decided it was time for Phase Three. Reaching for the intercom button. "Miss Rogers, please have Mr. Solo and Mr. Kuryakin report to my office." Yes, it was definitely time for Phase Three. "Then in half an hour contact Mr. Carver and have him join us.

Napoleon arrived first and sat down, hoping this was not another lecture. The fact that he was unable to stand working with anyone was frustrating and he didn't understand it, and then there were the looks people in the hall gave him when he passed. He looked up as the door opened and a young man with blond hair entered the room. It was deja vu. Mr. Waverly introduced the young man as Illya Kuryakin and then proceeded to repeat the code phases he had programmed them with.

  
Sitting back in his chair he watched as his two top agents came back to their selves. Bringing them up to date on what had happened while they were 'out'.

"You, gentlemen, will still have to act as if you'd never met," he warned them before the door behind them opened and in walked Joseph Carver.

"Sorry I'm a little late, Alex." Carver took a seat, preening himself.

Illya and Napoleon looked at one another in shock. No one ever called Mr. Waverly, Alex! At least, not a subordinate.

"Mr. Carver, you were called in here so that I could inform you that I'm pairing Solo and Kuryakin together," he said rather sharply, not appreciating being called by his first name by his new CEA. Turning to the two men he continued, "Perhaps you should both take the rest of day to get to know each other." Reaching for his pipe he dismissed them all.

Napoleon was heard to ask as they went out the door, "Kuryakin, huh, is that Russian?"

Carver stayed behind for a minute and looked at his boss. "Are you sure that was wise, sir?"

"Solo's performance has dropped. I need my top men back. Whether it's wise or not we will soon find out," Waverly responded.

Napoleon had just finished making reservations at the Russian Cafe for the evening when he looked up to find Carver standing in the doorway. Irritated he asked, "Is there something I can do for you?"

"Just remember personal calls are not for company time," Carver commanded coldly before leaving the doorway.

Illya arrived at the Russian Cafe to find Napoleon already waiting for him with a drink in his hands. He sat down and picked up the menu when Napoleon ventured, "So how have you been, old friend?"

"Bored, and how has it been with you?"

"Okay, I guess, Carver put me on report 'does not work well with others.'" Napoleon responded bringing a slight smile to the Russian's face.

Suddenly there was someone beside him and he turned, thinking it was the waitress, to find Angelique. "Napoleon, darling, how nice to see you again," she purred.

"Angelique." He nodded in response. "What brings you here?"

"Well, it has been such a long time. I thought we might get together for some fun and games. And how is your little Russian buddy?" she asked as she leaned over the table to pinch Illya on the cheek, perhaps a little harder than need be.

Illya flinched in pain and Angelique found her wrist in a bone-gripping hold. "Napoleon, you're hurting me."

"Keep your hands off of him," Napoleon said through gritted teeth as he let go of her wrist.

Removing her hand from Illya's face, she rubbed her wrist. "So the rumors are true," she said softly. "Well, I know when I'm not wanted." And with that she turned and flounced away.

Illya folded up his menu. "Suddenly I'm not hungry anymore."

"That's gonna leave some bruise. Why don't we go to my apartment and order Chinese?" and with that they got up and left the restaurant.

As they entered Solo's apartment, Napoleon went to the phone to order supper while Illya went to the kitchen to get some ice for his face. Opening the freezer he was surprised to find a cold bottle of vodka there. "Ah, what's this?" he asked as he walked into the living room.

"Oh, that's been in there for months, I didn't know quite why." Napoleon looked up in time to see Illya take a swig directly out of the bottle and than hold the chilled bottle to his cheek. Suddenly the doorbell rang. "That was fast and use a glass, you Russian peasant," he ordered as he went to answer the door.

"George?" was Napoleon's query as he opened the door to find not his supper but George Dennel.

"Hi, Napoleon. Hi, Illya" George greeted them cheerfully as he entered the apartment.

"What are you doing here?" Napoleon asked.

"Mr. Waverly sent me," Holding up his hand to show a Waverly ring. "He wanted you to have these." He said, handing an envelope to Napoleon.

Illya sat at the counter staring at George in amazement as Napoleon started to open the envelope."

George leaned close to Napoleon, keeping his eyes on Illya. "So how is it to … you know?" he asked, elbowing Napoleon.

Napoleon got a grip on George's elbow and guided him out the door. "Good night, George."

"Good night, Napoleon. Night, Illya." George stood on tiptoe to look over Napoleon's shoulder to address Illya, who saluted him with the vodka bottle.

"What was that all about?" Illya asked as he took another swig from the bottle.

"Oh, nothing," Napoleon answered preoccupied while going through the papers in the envelope.

Illya came over to see what the envelope contained. "I can't believe George has a Waverly ring. Why is it I never get a Waverly ring?"

"Be glad you don't. Evidently Mr. Waverly trusts him to help us." Napoleon took the papers and started spreading them on the coffee table. "Will you please use a glass?"

When the food finally arrived, they ate in silence as they went over and over the papers they had received. After a while Illya moved over to one of the chairs and sat in it with his legs over one arm having returned to drinking vodka out of the bottle again. "Strange how Angelique showed up at the restaurant tonight," he voiced thoughtfully.

Napoleon looked up, running his hands through his hair, he was missing something, but he didn't know what. "Huh, yes, I guess it was wasn’t it, " he responded preoccupied.

Bringing his legs back to the floor and leaning forward Illya asked, "Who knew we were eating at the Russian Cafe?"

Distracted from the papers Napoleon thought back. He had gone into his office to use the phone to make the reservation and came up with a name. "Carver."

"Carver?" Illya questioned. "Carver's the mole?"

"Oh shit," was the reply.

**Act 4: I think that's a Waverly ring.**

They had stayed up talking for most of the night trying to decide what to do and coming up blank. Illya had fallen asleep in the chair, his legs over the side, with the empty bottle clutched to his chest. Napoleon went the bedroom and got a blanket that he used to cover his friend. Smiling at him affectionately, he turned out the lights and went to bed.

The next morning they met in the men's lounge at headquarters, Illya nursing a hangover and Napoleon doing what one does in a restroom. As Napoleon was washing his hands when Mr. Waverly walked in. Going to the sink he turned on the faucet and facing his two agents asked what they had to report. They told him what had happened the night before and concluded with their suspicions.

"Carver, you say," Waverly said with a sigh. "That's rather flimsy. Are you sure?"

"Not positively, but no one else knew we were meeting at the Russian Cafe," Illya stated. Suddenly he clutched his stomach and stumbling to the stall began gagging.

"Mr. Solo, perhaps you'd better take care of your partner," Waverly ordered as he turned off the faucet and left.

When Illya finally came out. Napoleon helped him to the couch and offered him a glass of water. He then got a wet towel, which he, sitting next to him, placed on Illya's forehead. The door to a lounge opened and a fellow agent started to come in. On seeing them he stopped, turned around and left.

The two men looked at each other, and Napoleon rose from the couch. "I guess I'll go back to my office and finish some paperwork.

Illya entered Napoleon's office to find him whistling while he looked over the folder on his desk. The tune sounded familiar.

"How are you feeling?" Napoleon asked as he closed one folder, set it aside and reached for another.

"Much better." And recognizing the tune. "Really, Napoleon, 'You made me love you?'”

"Well, I do you know, in a manly sort of way." Both men started to smirk as an announcement came over the intercom.

"Solo and Kuryakin, please report to Mr. Waverly's office immediately."

Meanwhile at THRUSH headquarters Angelique was filling in Justin Sepheran on what she had learned the previous evening.

"So, Carter was correct. U.N.C.L.E.'s two top agents are fags." Sepheran leaned back in his chair contemplating this new information. Along with Angelique where two other men; Piers Castillian, Sepheran's second in command and Alexi Kemp your typical THRUSH thug. "Angelique, I want you to meet with Carver and find a way to kidnap Solo's little Russian playmate."

"Of course, darling, but why?" Angelique inquired.

Castillian questioned, "Commander, do you think that's wise?"

"Solo and Kuryakin have been responsible for the downfall of Webb, Mandor, and countless others. I will not have them interfering with my plans."

Illya and Napoleon arrived at Mr. Waverly's office to find George Dennel already there.

"Hi, guys," George greeted them as they entered.

  
"Hi, George," Solo answered as he sat down to one side of him.

  
Illya just grunted as he sat down on the other side. "Is it safe to talk here?"

  
"I've gone over the whole room with a new device that security has designed. It can detect a bug the size of the head of a pin," George boasted proudly.

  
Napoleon was impressed but kept his opinion to himself.

  
Clearing his throat Waverly launched into, "I've decided that it would be advisable to have Carver followed."

  
"We'll get on it right away," Napoleon promised.

  
"No, gentlemen, you two would be too obvious, I think Mr. Dennel here should have that responsibility."

  
"Me?" squeaked George.

  
Yes, Mr. Dennel, is that a problem." Waverly asked.

  
"Uh, no, sir." Dennel said shaking his head.

  
"Good. This is what I want you to do."

George was taking his new job very serious. He had donned a trench coat and dark glasses to follow Carver as he left U.N.C.L.E. headquarters. He somehow managed to remain unnoticed as Carver entered a bar several blocks down the street and met with Angelique.

  
Angelique was in the middle of passing on Sepheran's instruction when she noticed a strange little man who seemed to be watching the two of them in the reflection of his spoon. "Joseph, do you know that little man?" she questioned.

  
Carver looked over her shoulder. "Dennel," he said in surprise.

  
"Let me take care of this, darling." She got up and sensuously went over to Dennel, who was studiously ignoring them. "Do you have a light?"

  
Dennel pulled out his lighter and turned around. "Uhoh," he said when he noticed it was Angelique there. Taking out her compact she blew the powder in George's face causing him to pass out. Together with Carver they managed to get George out of the bar and head for THRUSH headquarters.

  
In an interrogation room George sat with his arms strapped to a chair. "And why did you bring this man here?" Sepheran questioned.

  
"Ah, it seemed like a good idea at the time," Carver blurted out, his face flushed.

  
"I assume you've searched him for homing devices."

  
Piers Castillian ventured, "We were just getting ready to do that, Commander."

  
"When you're done, contact me in the conference room," Sepheran ordered as he left the room.

  
George looked nervously from Angelique to Carver to Piers to Kemp. "Really, guys, you've got me all wrong."

  
"Shut up." Kemp ordered as he systematically removed Dennel's glasses, followed by the buttons to his shirt and his cufflinks. Angelique sat on the desk smoking as she looked on. When Kemp got to Dennel's watch and started to take off the ring, Carver started and shouted, "Stop!"

  
Everyone froze and turned to stare at him.

  
"Why?"

  
"I've never actually seen one, but I think that's a Waverly ring!"

  
"So?"

  
"So you try to remove that and half the building goes up."

  
All three THRUSH agents backed away respectfully.

  
Meanwhile Solo, Kuryakin, and a mass of agents were following the homing device that had been placed inside the ring. Coming to the location where the signal was the strongest Napoleon and Illya split up, each taking half of the task force, and proceeded to infiltrate the location and taking out all the guards in various locations.

  
Napoleon and his team went in the front and followed the signal to the room where George was being held. Stopping at each intersection, Napoleon checked the signal before waving his men forward. Three corridors down they were stopped by three guards who, pulling their rifles from their shoulders, started spraying the hallway with bullets.

  
Standing with his back to the wall, Napoleon pulled one of his buttons off and threw it down the hall. Moving forward as the explosion finished, he and his men found the bodies splattered around. Two doors down they divided forces to each side of the door. On the count of three, they burst in, surprising all the occupants of the room, even George.

  
"Are you okay, George?" Napoleon asked as he bent down, gun still covering the occupants, and undid the straps that held Dennel in place. "You men, watch these three. George, you come with me and we'll meet up with Illya." Dennel hurriedly followed Napoleon out of the room but not before he turned back and very unprofessionally stuck his tongue out at the three THRUSH agents.

  
Illya and his men went through a window at the back of building. Coming to some stairs, they went up one at time, each one covering the other. Suddenly a shot rang out striking the wall near Illya's head. He swung around and fired taking down the shooter before he could shoot again. Sweeping the upper hall and switching to sleep darts, they managed to take out two more guards silently before Solo and Dennel showed up.

  
Taking each side of the door, and making sure George wasn't in the way, they burst through the door to find twenty men and woman surrounding a large conference table.

  
As their men followed suit and stood with guns drawn. Solo and Kuryakin gave each other an amazed look for they had not only managed to capture Justin Sepheran but most of THRUSH Central too.

  
**Epilogue**

  
Solo stopped in front of his friend's office and took a deep breath before stepping through the door. "I thought I'd come by and say good-bye."

  
Kuryakin looked up from his paperwork, his face impassive, and leaned back in his chair. "You're really going through with this? Why?"

  
Coming to stand in front of Illya's desk, Napoleon sighed. "What with THRUSH practically defunct and the talk and the looks I've been getting - my heart's just not in it anymore. Not to mention it isn't helping my love life."

  
Illya's eyebrows went up. "Oh, I don't know, mine is on the increase. All the women seem to want to find out what made the infamous Napoleon Solo attracted to me."

  
Solo was caught halfway between a smirk and a sigh.

  
"What will you do?"

  
"Ah, I haven't decided. My Aunt Amy has a couple of companies for me to look at," he said with a shrug of his shoulders, his hands in his pockets. He reached out to take his soon to be former partners hand in a handshake. What he really wanted was to give him a big bear hug but he turned to leave.

  
"Napoleon, I'd still like to know why?"

  
Solo stopped at the door but kept his back to his partner and said softly, "Because it could have so easily been true." Without another word he left the room and the building leaving U.N.C.L.E. behind. Forever?


End file.
